


The Universe I'm Helpless In

by oneforyourfire



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Felching, M/M, Rimming, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 11:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15388170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/oneforyourfire
Summary: Junmyeon likes him like this, messy, slick, sloppy, ruined. Wants him like this, he’d told him. (suho gets tentacle-fucked, yall)





	The Universe I'm Helpless In

**Author's Note:**

> additional content warnings: driveby breeding kink mention, brief bloodplay, overstimulation, suho getting tentaclefucked

Junmyeon’s fingers stumble through the mess on Sehun’s belly, smearing as he dips down towards his waist. 

It’s too much and too soon and too slick and too sloppy, Sehun ruined and humiliatingly juvenile. But Junmyeon likes him like this, messy, slick, sloppy, ruined. Wants him like this, he’d told him. Wants him strung out and glassy-eyed and quivering and sobbing and desperate. 

He is.

And Sehun whines as his belly quivers upwards, lips quiver open. His grip, sealed tight around the base of his linking tentacle, falters. And the tentacle pushing inside of himself quivers. And the too much, too soon, too slick, too sloppy mess on his belly only increases, pooling then dripping across the rumpled sheets at his sides. His thighs quake, and Junmyeon’s fingers trace there, too, smear, dip, curling in closer, closer. 

At his throat, Junmyeon’s lips part, tickle over the protrusion of Sehun’s gills. He noses deliberately where the membrane is thinnest. Sehun’s skin thrums, and his spine arches. And he whines—again. 

Wants him more, wants him closer, wants it better. This isn’t enough. 

He’d only wanted to see, he’d said. Didn’t think he’d be able to join him, but he wanted to see. And Sehun, he’d wanted to show him. How good he could be. How good it could be. Even if it could be better, even if Junmyeon touching him, fucking him would make it better. 

Joonmyun’s fingers meander, then curl, push, and oh, oh, _oh_ , he’s controlling the pace now, kissing over his chin and his throat as he pushes the tentacle deeper, harder. And Sehun is melting back into the mattress. Pliant and willing and wanton.

It’s better, so much better. And he's even greedier for more, more, more. 

Junmyeon follows him down, looming and handsome and dark-eyed. From this close, he can see the traces of his release on Junmyeon’s skin, pearlescent pink and glittery on his his mouth, his throat, remember how it’d spilled across his belly, his fingers, his cock, his ass, too. 

And Sehun moans helplessly at the sight, the reminder, the need. He _needs_. And Junmyeon looks most breathtaking like this, impossibly captivating like this, the kind of perfect that mothers tell their hatchings about, the kind of vision you use to keep you warm on those cold, lonely, endless, endless black nights, a beauty so striking, so fine that Sehun could never have even allowed himself to imagine not even in the farthest reaches of the galaxy, but he’s real and he’s here and he’s touching him, and Sehun grasps helplessly at his arms, his fingertips skating desperately over his Junmyeon’s raised, flushed skin as he takes it, takes anything Junmyeon gives him, takes it so, so, so well, Sehunnie.

Please—

Junmyeon is so warm, so soft, so delicate, so, so, so beautiful, and Sehun needs him even closer, clings, drags him until their bodies are flush, until he’s breathing in Junmyeon’s air, tasting the sweet, sweet shudder of his gasp. 

“One more, baby,” Junmyeon coaches against the seam of his mouth. “So good you can take another, right, baby? Show me, baby.”

And Sehun would do anything for him. 

Junmyeon’s liquid eyes are dark, glittering with mischief as he curls around the base of another, twists, urges, and Sehun hisses as it breaches. The stretch makes his head spin as his body jerks with pleasure. Inside him, they twist, twine, drag and push and stretch—just right. Just just just—

Fumbling downwards, grasping, writhing, gasping, Sehun curls to squeeze hard at Junmyeon’s wrist, tastes his pulse, feels the ripple of muscles and how they work as he fucks him even faster. Fucks him deeper, too, harder, too, hotter, too. And better, better, better. 

Junmyeon’s knees dig into his waist, pinning him like Sehun needs pinning, like Sehun isn’t wanting and needing and taking and loving it, like he isn’t gasping around the promise that he could take another. Could take a third if Junmyeon wanted him to, a fourth, a fifth, all of them, could do it for him. Could. Could. Can. _Yes, yes, please_. 

So full, so full, so full. 

He jolts, scratches harder, writhes, whimpers, sobs, gasps, takes, wants, loves, loves, loves. 

“I’ve got you, Hunnie, baby. I’ve got you. Just feel,” he urges as if the feelings alone aren’t too much, the pressure of his tentacles, the pressure around them, the heat of Junmyeon’s body, his moans, his dark, dark eyes, the way the pleasure bursts white hot and electric through Sehun’s frayed veins as he tumbles perilously closer closer closer to a shattering, shattering end. “I’ve got you.”

Sehun sobs, quivers as a third twines, teases, tries, tries, tries to ease inside. Could. Could. Can. 

His body shudders at aching, aching fullness, arches and catches against Junmyeon’s. 

Their foreheads bump, hips skim, soft, warm, soft, solid, please, and Junmyeon’s cock drags against one of the tentacles. Angry, flushed, pulsing pink against the deep, deep purple of Sehun’s skin. 

And soft and warm and delicate and so, so, so beautiful. So, so, so here. And please, it’s better, always so much better. And Sehun had known as soon as he’d seen him on that ship those years and years ago, those soft eyes, softer words, calm and patient and welcoming and unafraid and so, so, so beautiful, had known that Junmyeon would take care of him, acclimate him, had known also that Junmyeon was meant to be his. 

Better, please, better, best. 

Bold, sentimental, clumsy, overwhelmed, Sehun stumbles down his spine, around his front, too. Traces shakily over the dip of his belly, the swell of his ass, skates over the prickle of tiny, tiny goosebumps on his skin. Familiar as his skin is, it’s foreigner still, fascinating still, beautiful still, everything still, and Sehun moans at the hot kiss of precome, the shudder of tiny, delicate, gorgeous gorgeous muscles against the engorged head of his tentacle. Soft, warm, soft, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, his, his, his. 

Against his mouth, Junmyeon’s lips wobble and part into a moan, dizzyingly sweet, dizzyingly soft. 

“You're hard,” Sehun pants, awed. Then moans, then whimpers as Junmyeon pushes, pushes, pushes, fucks, fucks, fucks. “You—you got hard again.” Then “Please, please, please.” 

Junmyeon hums, twists, arches, arches, pushes into Sehun’s touch with a weak hiss. And Sehun is twining around his cock, tighter, more deliberate, loving the hot and heavy way it pulses, how Junmyeons’ breath comes more ragged dark, dark, dark. Loving how Junmyeon’s fingers twine tighter, too, how they twist, how they _slam_ , how he moans at Sehun’s broken whine. 

He feels more slick gathering and dripping, and he needs to—

They both hiss as Sehun dips inside. 

And oh _yes_ , it’s always so much better like this, always best like this. And yes, yes, yes, Junmyeon is clenching around him, soft, warm, soft, tight, tight, tight, the most gorgeous, gorgeous, tiny, tiny tremors. 

Junmyeon’s belly quivers, chest heaves, lips tremble, hands scramble, fingernails bite. “More.” 

And oh, Sehun is overcome with the absurd, brief, hot, hot, hot thought of _taking_ , taking as he’s meant to, pinning him down, piercing him with his teeth, shoving into his mantle cavity, pumping him fucking full, gagging him with as much pleasure and as much come as he can bear. 

“Hyung,” he breathes, and Junmyeon moans. “Hyung.” 

Sehun skims his palms over Junmyeon’s belly, feels the dancing muscles beneath his skin, the way they bunch and release with every slow, slow, slow, stuttering grind forward. 

“Yes,” he whispers against Sehun’s jaw, and he’s twisting his hips, arching his back into a long, elegant beautiful pale, pale line of quivering need. For him. Needing him. 

Because it's better for him when they touch, too.

And Junmyeon shudders above him, tips, tips, tips before collapsing. His head crashes against Sehun’s shoulder as he shudders so, so, so heavily through the push and retreat. Unravels like that above him. “ _Hyung_.”

“Baby boy,” he breathes. “Yes, yes.” And it has sharp little jolts of pleasure prickling through his skin always always always so much better when Junmyeon joins. His tongue drags across Sehun’s throat, hot, wet, wanton. Yes, yes, yes, it’s always better. “Come on,” he purrs. “Fuck me, my baby boy. Fuck me.” 

Sehun twists, slides deeper, and Junmyeon grinds back into the caress. He’s so, so, so exquisitely warm and soft and tight tight tight, and the way he squeezes tears a whine from Sehun’s throat, has his body quaking with need. And he’s utterly ruined him with desire. Pleasepleasepleaseplease. 

But Joonmyun is ruined with it, too, blunt fingers clawing at Sehun’s shoulders, blunt teeth nipping at his throat. 

And Sehun slides even deeper, whimpers as Junmyeon squeezes even tighter. Every gorgeous, hot, hot groove catches and drags, and _oh_ , Sehun has never never never wanted anything more. Never, never—

“Please, please please come, hyung,” he rasps, and Junmyeon lurches, noses along the sensitive chromataphores—freckles, Hunnie— on his cheekbone, his eyebrow, pants into them. And Sehun, just just— “Please. Let me have this. I want it. I want it. I want it.” 

“Mate, wanna mate me?” he whispers, stumbling downwards to paw at Sehun’s linking tentacle then over the tentacles still pushing into his mantle’s entrance. He’s touching with his fingers instead, curling and squeezing and scraping and dragging, just just just right, just just just best. “Or do you want me to mate you instead? Come all over you? Stuff you full like the pretty pretty—”

“ _Hyung_.” 

“Mate,” Junmyeon purrs again, the syllabes slurred and so, so dizzyingly shaky. “ _Mate_ ,” he repeats, the tones wrong but oh oh oh oh he _can't_. “ _Mate me_.”

Sehun can't—

“Hyung, hyung, mate, mate, mate.” 

And Sehun is tossing back onto the rumpled, sticky, messy, messy sheets, pinning him, fucking, fucking, fucking, taking, taking, taking. Junmyeon, warm, soft, beautiful, perfect, perfect Junmyeon just twists his fingers around a free tentacle with one hand, clutches at Sehun’s shoulder with another and tosses his head back and moans and writhes and strokes and grinds and needs and takes and takes and takes, his mate, his mate, his mate. And Sehun can’t can’t can’t, fucks into him erratic and fast and sloppy and deep deep deep, pinning him down, impaling him on his tentacle, thrusting and thrusting and thrusting until he’s emptying himself in the warm perfect sheath of his body, pumping him full and ruined and dripping and his and his and his. 

He bites down the sheets at Junmyeon’s side, tears through them as he’s flooded with sensation. His body locks, winds tight, tight, tight, then flexes as he spills across Junmyeon’s wrist, his cock, his waist, his ass, all his beautiful, warm, perfect skin. 

And he shakes and cries and jerks and moans and claws and bites and swells and swells and swells as the pleasure swells and swells and swells. And it’s splintering and hot and electric and unbearable, and it lasts and lasts and lasts—so long, Hunnie, hyung is so jealous. 

And Junmyeon, warm, soft, beautiful, perfect, perfect, marked, sticky, messy Junymyeon, teases his thumbnail under one of the suckers as if he wants it to last longer or as if he wants Sehun to give him another. Sehun’s body surges into if then away, trembling with the too sharp too bright too hot, too too too much pleasure.

And he can't—

Please, please—

And he’s teary and trembling and covered in come and ink and so, so beautiful Junmyeon insists as he nuzzles fondly into his throat, so, so beautiful. 

Sehun heaves in lungfuls of sticky, hot air as Junmyeon kisses him through the comedown, cradles his face, brushes away his hot, hot tears, drags his thumb into the quiver just beneath his eyes, grounding and solid and soft and warm and soft. 

“There you go,” he whispers. “There you go, baby boy. So good, baby boy. So beautiful, my mate.” 

Because yes, yes, he’d wanted him like this, messy, slick, sloppy, ruined, a helpless,breathless trembling puddle of tears and ink and come like this. 

Sehun blinks at him through the heavy, hot, hot tears blurring his vision, loves him with every quaking limb in his body. Needs him with every quaking limb, too. Closer, closer, closer. Sehun calls out for him through the rasp of ruined moan. Please. Hyung. Junmyeon hyung. Mine, mine, mine, mate, mate, mate. 

“Good?” he rasps, laughing at Sehun’s shaky, shaky nod. “Done?” Sehun shakes his head. 

He can. He can. He can. 

Junmyeon shifts gingerly, and Sehun hisses at the heat, the drag of his ass, his cock, all of his warm, soft, perfect skin. 

Trembling, overheated, he feels more ink bubbling up in his pores. It oozes, smears. Tacky, it sluices between their bodies as Sehun urges him closer. 

If he only, only—

Junmyeon twists absently over the engorged head of his tentacles, squeezes, then again, less absent, rhythmic. Just just just shy of cruel and Sehun’s heels skate restlessly over their ruined sticky sheets. Pushing past the overstimulation, past the exhaustion because he needs it, wants it, can do it if Junmyeon would only just _please—._

“Please,” he whispers. “Please please please let me—” 

Winding a trembling tentacle around Junmyeon’s neck, Sehun kisses him distracted and shivering and so so so oversensitive. And it hurts, but he pushes past the cellular desire to retract and curl and sleep. Elongating his tentacles, whining, aching, aching, aching, Sehun curls, drags, strokes him just as tight, fucks him just as deep, and Junmyeon hisses into his kiss, rocks into it, needs it, needs it, needs it. 

His large, liquid, dark, dark eyes flutter shut, and Sehun misses his eyes, but oh the way his eyebrows pinch, the way his moans crest and break—for him, his, his, his, his mate, mate, mate. 

Sehun is cresting, breaking, too. And he’s kissing and trembling and fucking and fucking and fucking through the mess of his own slickness, his own come. 

But oh, fuck, fuck, fuck the excruciatingly heat, excruciating pleasure, the ripple of his delicate muscles against Sehun. The way Junmyeon _squeezes_ him tighter. Wants to keep going, wants Junmyeon to use him to feel good. 

Wheezing, whimpering, writhing and sobbing and inking and begging and pleading and cajoling and loving and loving and loving, Sehun fucks, fucks, fucks. “Come on, come on, hyung. Mate. Mate. Mate.” He grasps desperately at his ink-tacky, sweat-drenched hair, bites at his salty chest, sucks his throat, the corner of his mouth, tastes the sweat, sweat abandon of his tiny, tiny moans. 

But it hurts too, too, too much, and he wants but he can't— 

“Mouth,” he wheezes, stumbling downwards as soon as Junmyeon gives him a weak, wanton nod of assent.

And Sehun is tossing him back into the mattress once more, crawling between his legs, licks over the glittery droplets clinging to the coarse hair there, then spreads him open, licks there instead. He tastes mate mate mate, mine mine mine on the tip of his tongue, feels the sweet ache of it in his gums, in the tips of his fingers. Needs to pin him and mark him and bite him and claim him and have him over and over and over again. 

Sharp, sharp, cutting, selfish, violent, and and and he— 

“Fangs,” he warns in a weak, heated, helpless rush. But Junmyeon only hooks his legs behind Sehun’s shoulder, arches, arches, arches, pushes into it, piercing and needy and so, so, perfect, and Sehun groans at the hot, heavy, heady rush his blood on his tongue, suckling in spite of himself. 

Mine, mine, mine, mate, mate, mate. Give it to me. Give me everything. Take me. Take me. Take me. 

Sehun growls into his thigh, kissing and licking and mouthing to soothe the sting, whispering mindless, helpless little praises into his skin. 

“Soft. Pretty. Mate, mate, mate, my beautiful, perfect mate.” 

And Junmyeon quakes excruciatingly beautiful and wanton and warm and soft and sweaty. 

“Come on,” he rasps. “Come on, mate.” 

And Sehun hooks his fingers on Junmyeon’s rim—soft, warm, soft, wet—teases, tugs, before pushing inside again. And captivated and enchanted and so, so, painfully in love with Junmyeon’s _everything_ , he watches the way that Junmyeon quakes into the caress, how his head tosses back into the torn, sticky sheets at his sides, how his beautiful dark, dark liquid eyes squeeze shut with pure, decadent. 

And oh, it aches how much he needs it. And oh, it echoes. And oh, it burns. 

“Please,” Sehun urges in a broken chant. “Please.” 

And he’s diving between his legs again, curling his fingers, curling his tongue, licking through the thick, pale pink sticky mess of his own slick, his own come, cleaning his mate, his perfect, beautiful, warm, soft mate, tasting all the tiny, gratifying, weak tremors of Junmyeon’s body against his mouth. 

Sehun hitches Junmyeon’s legs over his shoulders, licks his way deeper inside, moans at how easy he opens, how easy he bends as Sehun fucks his tongue deeper, deeper, deeper. Needs him like this, pliant and needy and helpless and breathless and moaning and beautiful and ruined and _his_ like this, needs it bursting hot and wet and thick on his tongue, needs it sliding down his throat, needs it drowning his whole body. 

His mate. His, his, his. Breathless and broken and so, so heartbreakingly beautiful. Deserves the world, every single star in the galaxy. And oh, Sehun wants to keep him, keep him safe, keep him sheltered, keep him his. Mate, mate, mate. 

He groans at the echoing slick sloppy sound of Junmyeon touching himself for him, moaning for him. As Sehun tastes how much he needs him, mate, mate, mate, mine, mine, _mine_. 

And Sehun tastes it, too, when Junmyeon comes, feels the echoing reverb of Junmyeon’s every fine, gorgeous, gorgeous tremor, every fine, gorgeous, gorgeous quake as he falls apart on his tongue. 

**Author's Note:**

> the twitter poll i made said getting tentacle fucked counts as bottoming, so this is suho bottoming for his alien boyfriend, i guess
> 
> someone told me that all tentacles are good tentacles, so i will believe them, also i guess


End file.
